


Ways to Say 'I Love You'

by deathwailart



Series: Ghillie Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romantic Gestures, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without actually saying it.  Or Ghillie is actually really sort of obvious about the whole thing and Dorian only fully realises in hindsight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways to Say 'I Love You'

In hindsight, he's an idiot not to have noticed first but then again, he wasn't looking. Well, he was, but not for this. You learn not to read too much into things, like the whispers that follow down a hall that could be nothing, a private joke to titter over, hands covering mouths, glancing at the interloper hall to make sure they suspect nothing so you don't obsess over it and wonder what you've given away or it could be everything, it could be their suspicions or knowledge, one terrible little secret that could destroy everything. Orlais may have The Game but Tevinter has games all its own and Dorian has learned to play them well. It's galling really that Ghillie Lavellan actually manages to get under his skin when he's honestly not the most politically minded of folk, when he jokes and laughs but underneath it is achingly sincere, the sort of friend who would always offer a shoulder, an ear and a place to stay. Ghillie has a hundred and one things he's almost meant to be doing at least, things that should be his priority but there is always time. He either finds it or he makes it and Dorian would joke but he saw that awful future with Ghillie, they watched two friends die for them, bodies thrown into the hall, how he had to haul Ghillie back when he lunged for Leliana's hand as she screamed.  
  
Dorian will whistle past the graveyard but he knows when he stepped in it at the time.  
  
Friendship would have been enough, he has so few, it's the nature of Tevinter but more than, it was always discretion. He had Felix but everything else had to be hidden, you had to guess at things because when you want power then you will stop at nothing and though he did have the name of his father and that position, when he'd been sponsored by a man like Alexius then there was at least _something_ that resembled security. Or the illusion of it. Ghillie would make a good friend – and he is, Ghillie seems to befriend everyone no matter how different they are, always strives to find common ground but where Dorian feels he puts his foot in his mouth, Ghillie just makes it look so easy.  
  
Ghillie Lavellan has been saying 'I love you' without saying it for an almost embarrassingly long time and Dorian either didn't notice or pretended not to or that he'd been mistaken and instead of being discouraged, he just kept trying.  
  
Truly, a dreadful creature.  
  
But he should have seen it really. Ghillie checks in with everyone, Dorian can see that from his little nook. He hears echoes of the conversations he has with Solas below, Ghillie sometimes laughing at a story. There's always a wave whenever Ghillie runs up the stairs not just to talk to Dorian – when he's off to see Vivienne or Leliana, to check in with Fiona or to turn in whatever research materials the young Tranquil studies – but he still stops and asks Dorian about books or this and that, teasing and joking, checking in. He can spot him from the window when he's talking to Cassandra or heading into the tavern to catch up with Bull and Krem, Sera and Cole or perhaps to prod at Cullen or traipse off down to the further reaches of Skyhold to bother Blackwall or go check on his mounts. Sometimes he appears after he's been tending to them the way he does when they're out, when Dorian sees him whispering to them quietly, feeding them bits of apple when he thinks no one can see, probably missing the halla his clan have.  
  
Long before they ever actually say anything, when Ghillie's hair is a wild tangle he wants to twine his fingers in, a flush from his cheeks to his ears, down the long column of his throat to his chest, when Ghillie says that they should be foolish with that hopeful smile, he's been saying it.  
  
It wasn't just the chats. The hunting down the Venatori. The time he told Dorian of the letter and went with him, got him out of that place then told off the Chantry Mother, not even the amulet; all important yes, all things he loves because Ghillie is horribly selfless and makes time for everyone's errands and checks in as often as he can. It's all the other little things that he does.  
  
"I've been up and down here half a dozen times today," Ghillie will say, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you've been hunched over that table in this terrible light the whole time or staring at shelves." Which turns into dinner, it always turns into dinner, sometimes with others and in the tavern where it's loud and noisy or sometimes in the kitchens where they sit in a corner and bask in the warmth. Then other times Ghillie will bring food to him or say to come up to his quarters and they'll talk about what Dorian has discovered. He never presses the issue if Dorian says he's not hungry but whenever Dorian says that and inevitably is enticed by the smell when it's actually there in front of him, he doesn't say anything when Dorian steals from his plate. Besides, even with the appetite Ghillie has (the food has to go into the rifts somehow, there's no way Ghillie stays that skinny when he eats as much as he does without putting on an ounce) there's always too much food for just one person. Food in Ferelden is unspeakably bland though and there are so many comforts of his old life that his misses that others would tease him for but it's the food he misses most if he's really honest with himself. Here there's too much that's boiled to mush – when you can't tell what meat it is or if it's actually a vegetable then you have a very definite problem - and of course the lack of spices and there's just so little flair. It's too much pragmatism. He bemoans the fact to Ghillie whenever they eat together and Ghillie takes pride in Dorian's mock horror at the thought of how that's so normal even though Ghillie's clan are from the Free Marches. But Ghillie still asks his favourites (Ghillie's is rabbit turned on a spit, slathered with honey and crushed herbs) and when trade is improved to Skyhold and the meals first satisfy their Orlesian guests before Ghillie comes bounding – well, not bounding but he climbs stairs faster than Dorian does – up with a tray that smells like heaven. It's not right of course, these are Ferelden cooks most likely, but he's missed this. It's comforting. A reminder of better days when he would have dinner with Alexius and Felix to discuss theories before they moved onto the brandy or when his parents would put their mutual loathing of one another to smile indulgently when they asked after his studies.  
  
He was a bright boy, he was all their hopes and dreams then and he was smart and willing to try new things. In any case, it's a good enough line to tell when Ghillie one day asks if he'd like to try a recipe from his clan so he can see if his tongue is permanently damaged from daring to try one of the tiny peppers that Dorian offered. Ghillie calls it 'stick to your ribs' food, a very boring stew – not bad, filling and warm but nothing particularly memorable except Ghillie makes it. For him. So he uses an admittedly terrible joke about Ghillie sticking to his ribs but all Ghillie does is duck his head as if to hide the pleased smile. It just makes the red at his ears even more obvious.  
  
When it's cold Ghillie always asks, quietly, without making a big fuss of it, if he's sure he's fine, not teasing, slender fingers chafing warmth into Dorian's when he notices Dorian doing the same. At some point Dorian finds a little jars of salve tucked into his pack or in a pocket, or left in his nook back at Skyhold, not just to soothe though it does that in spades; it's a warming balm, perhaps something Dalish hunters must have to make use of for spending long hours out in the cold in all weathers. He thinks of Ghillie and all the plants he plucks to take back to Skyhold's garden or for requisitions and he imagines Ghillie sat in his quarters, pestle and mortar, a little knife, maybe humming or singing to himself as he works. It's not just the salve alone though. It smells good. Not just of the herbs he's used to make it work but there's another note that masks them, citrus and spice, a little added touch that's more than just the gesture of a friend.  
  
Though he might complain about the state of Skyhold's library, he has a job to do and he's going to do it to the best of his ability so he goes through everything fastidiously, everything that might possibly help them as he makes lists of what he'll need, what he'd love to get his hands on. He picks out things he thinks will be useful for Ghillie and leaves them by his door or hands them off to him when he's walking past because it means Ghillie will have to use the stairs instead of leaping over the railing the way he's inclined to do. Inside the covers are always a list of the relevant pages, Dorian's own notes that can run for several pages and he doesn't expect anything back but whenever he gets them back he finds them. Ghillie's messy looping scrawl – he never wrote much before leaving his clan or so he says and any official penmanship is dealt with by Josephine until Ghillie needs to sign it - but he either manages to decipher it. Sometimes the notes are brief, always thanking Dorian, asking for more and Ghillie likes to discuss things in person but there are times when the notes stop being a back and forth discussion on paper. Nights when Ghillie must sit up late when he can't sleep, the candles burning down to stubs, maybe hunched over his desk or curled on his couch, perhaps even cross-legged in his bed, blankets around him like a cloak. Streams of consciousness, silly things and half the time they're more notes that Ghillie should make to himself and probably just forgot but he keeps them, reads them with a smile and answers them in the pages he leaves tucked inside the front covers of the next stack of books.  
  
"I never got the hang of instruments," Ghillie tells him when he finally asks to see the lute he keeps looking at, running his fingers across polished wood carefully, down the strings and plucking a couple with a smile. "I didn't really get time to learn with my lessons."  
  
"It's not as common in Tevinter as it would be in Orlais, what with their bards and all, but it's rather expected of us, cultivating talents, _culture_ and all that."  
  
"Do you sing as well then?" Ghillie sings, usually in elven and only snatches when he's working on something, under his breath and Dorian's not an expert but he suspects they're work songs, they have that sort of steady beat to them.  
  
"I confess, I do have a rather fine voice as it happens. And singing lessons have benefits for learning how to project ones voice, how to let it ring out. Elocution is good for some things but it takes more than that to be convincing in the magisterium."  
  
"But do you _enjoy_ singing?"  
  
"Yes, yes of course. I wouldn't have dragged the blasted lute with me – do you know how much of a nuisance such things are in transit?"  
  
"But everyone has to have their indulgences, don't they?"  
  
"At last! I was wondering if you'd ever get the idea."  
  
"Don't be an arse." Ghillie hands the lute over to him with gentle hands then takes a seat on the floor amidst small piles of books, back to the shelves. "Will you sing for me?"  
  
"Is this some Dalish custom I'm not aware of? Call someone an arse then ask a favour?"  
  
"Maybe it's just a 'me' thing."  
  
"I can live with that."  
  
It's been a while since he's done much singing but he's never been ashamed of his voice and he lets it ring out once he's tuned the lute – the cold here does nasty things to it, it takes twice as long to tune as it would at home – and it's not the hymn they all sang in the cold of the Frostbacks but Ghillie smiles up at him and listens until Dorian's fingers ache and his throat goes dry.  
  
Dorian teaches him Tevene when he requests, saying it'd be useful to learn even though it'd be more useful for him to learn more than the basics of Orlesian but Ghillie balks at Orlesian, never quite able to connect the words he sees on the page with what he hears or says. Dorian is quite happy to carefully correct his pronunciation and to tell him where to put the stresses. He teaches him his favourite curses too because that should always be one of the first things someone learns after all, taking delight when Ghillie realises just some of what Dorian's said when they're out and about. He doesn't expect to learn more elven in return but Ghillie asks if he'd like to because it's only fair and after all, Ghillie drags him around to most ruins and with Corypheus so interested in elven things, it's only natural they find many elven ruins and Ghillie likes to sit and work through them carefully. He takes notes and usually whoever else comes along knows that they need to bring something to occupy them until Ghillie's satisfied. It's rather fun really, to listen to Ghillie thinking aloud as he reads and scribbles notes, when he tugs on Dorian's hand once everything that needs to be killed is dealt with. Usually Varric tags along and just asks for a few torches to get some writing of his own done but if Cole comes along (bringing Sera to an elven ruin is a bad idea when Ghillie wants to spend as much time as possible in them, they all learned that one the hard way) he joins in and Ghillie and Dorian are equally guilty of asking too many questions about how he feels.  
  
Dorian does ask why he is asked along and not Solas who studies ruins and sleeps in them although there's every chance Solas might have been to some of them before. Ghillie's answer is almost always the same: because Dorian understands that there is always something worth saving and preserving,  
  
Magic is of course common ground though the more time he spends around Solas, talking of Tevinter he realises how much came from the elves once. Ghillie has fewer dramatic flourishes when he fights but there's a confidence in his movements, a rhythm that seems old; it is Deshanna's, Ghillie tells him when he asks at last, as it was the Keeper before and the Keeper before that again. Ghillie is taller than his Keeper so he reaches further and has to pivot and he's comfortable enough to switch hands when he has to; Badb, the Keeper's other apprentice and his friend, is left-handed but they practiced back and forth. Though he prefers to fight at a distance, sometimes you can't control for everything and though Dorian knows how to use his staff for melee fighting if he really must, Ghillie is far better at it, good enough to spar with some of the troops although the one time he ventures down to watch him spar with Cassandra, she practically has to carry him off to go sit. But he keeps it up, some sort of staff fighting or drills, especially once he decides he wants to be a rift mage. Dorian hasn't known from the start, not like the rest but for Cole so he can't say how much the Anchor has changed him but there's more force. He punches like a soldier, slams his stave into the ground and when he fights he switches hands less, the rift magic directed through the left. Dorian's magic is different, he is Circle taught and as a necromancer there has to be more of a flow to it, drawing and directing, a fine balance of force; too little and nothing happens, too much and the violence of it disrupts everything.  
  
Ghillie still learns bits and pieces though and he shows Dorian as much as he can of the rift magic too, drawing Solas in for explanations because to Ghillie, there's a strange innate quality to it when he gets lost for words and as frustrating as it can be for both them – and it's not that Dorian is ungrateful for the explanations Solas can help with when Ghillie starts cursing and apologising – there's something to be said for the fact that Ghillie _can't_ explain.  
  
At least they practice together, not in the main courtyard because people are squeamish and besides, it's rather nice to steal the inquisitor away all to himself for it. Sometimes it's all four of them together, testing for weaknesses in barriers, discussing enemy tactics, suggestions and snark. It's almost like home really but with more urgency and remarks that are never wholly mean. Of course he likes it best whenever it's just the two of them even if it's surely the cause of so many rumours, not that Dorian cares what they say about him. Nor does Ghillie care either, both caring about the other one and it's enough to make your teeth rot, not that he finds all that out until later.  
  
"That thing you said made your teeth taste funny, did it really or was that you pulling Solas' leg?" Ghillie asks one day, lingering static discharging after a bout.  
  
"No, it really does. You use lightning spells, you get that don't you?"  
  
"I've had a tingling tongue, never anything that made my mouth taste different."  
  
"Odd, from what I've come to understand on my travels with your company, much of Tevinter magic came from the elves."  
  
"Well, Solas isn't really like most elves," Ghillie says in his most 'I am trying very hard to be diplomatic' voice, a little smirk on his face. "Can you teach me it?" He asks after a pause where he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck.  
  
"Doubting me?"  
  
"Maybe I want to know what it tastes like." Dorian raises both eyebrows and Ghillie goes red – it's fetching, he has to admit – and makes a strangled squawking noise. "That's not what I-"  
  
"Oh inquisitor, what _will_ the masses think if they ever hear you say such things?" Dorian crows with a grin on his face, his cheeks sore from smiling as Ghillie straightens his robes and pouts.  
  
"Good thing it's only you then."  
  
It's alarmingly effective as a disarming move and absolutely unfair. So perhaps it's only fair much later that Dorian is the one to talk of initiative when he summons his courage and silences old ghosts as he asks for Ghillie's hand at the Winter Palace.

**Author's Note:**

> Not fully happy with how this worked out, it feels clunky and awkward in a lot of places (or it does to me since I know what I wanted to write at the start) but I wanted it done and hey, last fic of the year, I am disgusted with how much fluff I'm writing about these two.


End file.
